


Domestic Chaos

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1836253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>cayya answered: MorMor: Jim getting frustrated over his business and Seb trying to distract him…<br/>(Loosely based upon this tumblr prompt)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> I feel awful because:  
> A) this is so short (and hopefully sweet?)  
> B) this isn't my usual johnlock  
> C) the prompt was kind of leading up to smut but I tend not to write things that don't interest me, so it just sort of cuts off.  
> D) it's very very late but I'm trying to juggle school and getting through Supernatural.  
> On the plus side, it's great to write some characters that (would) swear more because I'm a really bad potty mouth in reality.

0001 hours.

Sebastian Moran was not a patient man. Oh, he should have been. Hours upon hours of waiting, watching, eye pressed against the falsely sympathetic rubber eyepiece of his gun. Falsely sympathetic meaning that you would think the rubber would stop your eye socket from feeling like it had been smacked down onto relentless stone, but it in fact didn't, and he still got furious headaches from it. Furious headaches which were not helped by his boss' feral temper and impertinence.

Sometimes, he wondered why it was _him _who had earned the nickname 'tiger'. Waiting with his sniper wasn't much like waiting, though; it was more like a pause. Predator and prey, Jim had told him. He'd been too blind to see before he'd had pointed it out to him, but it was exactly that.__

Jim just always seemed to know these things. Of course, he was smart; everybody knew that James Moriarty was a genius. He knew science things and maths things and boring things, which he rarely dwelled on, but he also knew things about the way life worked that nobody else, _nobody else _,had ever pointed out to Seb.__

Which he adored.

The thing about Moriarty, was that he seemed to be a vessel filled with nothing but a pure darkness; sharp edge, no complications, a smooth course to the next chaotic obstacle. But he wasn't. Jim was a poet, a philosopher; it was just whilst others painted their pictures in obnoxiously sunny colours, he preferred the blacks and the red. The colours of truth, of honesty.

'Hey, boss.'

Seb just got a grunt in reply. Still, more than any other employee would. Well, he should hope so.

He was leant against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching the consulting criminal was perched on his office chair. His legs were tucked up against his chest; he crouched on the leather like a cat, balancing on his heels with his toes dinging into the cushion. His usually pristine suit was crumpled, with flecks of coffee stains; his jacket was strewn over the sofa, carelessly abandoned and disregarded. 

The white shirt that clung to his back, which fit snuggly over shapely shoulders, was a flash of white in a darkened room. The harsh glow of his laptop was the only light, and it picked out his features and the rough brushstrokes of his hair (which had been freed from its uniform position, probably by frustrated fingers) and shaded them an eery blue; his pouted lips were plucked forward by the splash of colour.

'Are you gonna have a break or something?'

'Sebby, the only breaking I'll be doing is your fucking neck if you start trying to distract me.'

' _Boss_.' 

' _Seb_.' 

'You've been doing that all day.'

'Yes, surprisingly, I have been organising my empire. These things do tend to require some effort.'

'Jim, you're going to-'

'I said shut up, Sebastian.'

Seb just sighed, rolling his eyes. Protectiveness was not something that came naturally to him; he'd never wanted to keep anybody else safe and healthy before. Yet here he was, caring about James Moriarty, of all people.

He wondered when he'd eaten last, whether he'd slept last night (because he sure as hell hadn't slept for a while), even if he'd actually changed clothes in the past three days.

'Alright, fine. I won't be far away if you... if you need me to do something for you.'

'I should hope so.'

 

* * *

0430 hours.

'Jim.'

'Oh for God's sake.'

Sebastian's persuasive and ever so slightly intoxicated hand ran it's way across Jim's shoulder blades; his fingers traced out the withered patterns of muscle and bone, feeling the silk of the fabric glide under his fingers.

'It's half four. In the morning.'

'As much as your wealth of intelligent and specialist skills never ceases to amaze me, Moran, I am just about capable of telling the _fucking time _. Shouldn't you be sleeping?'__

'So should you.'

'Oh, don't start that again. Though, you can certainly carry on rubbing my shoulders like that if it makes you feel any better.'

'If you come to bed I can do much more.'

'Stop it, tiger. I'm asking nicely. I'm not coming to bed.'

Seb pouted. The casual stroking of Moriarty's neck and shouldered had hardened into a deep, merciless circular movement; fingertips dug into his boss' soft exterior and tugged at the stone muscles beneath, which strained and contracted as he typed.

'No, I suppose that would never work on _you_.'

'Just let me finish this...'

'Whenever I've been working, you've always been much worse than I am.'

'Now really isn't the time for a domestic.'

'It's all one-sided, boss. I put up with so much shit from you, and the minute I try to save you from yourself I-'

'Good lord, you're beginning to sound like Watson!'

'You know what you'd be doing right now, if it was me working and not you?'

'Go on, humour me. What would I be doing?'

'You'd be _curled up on my fucking lap _!'__

The skin beneath circling hands began to burn, blossoming into a bright pink colour.

'That's never happened. You're making things up now.'

'Last week.'

'No.'

'Monday.'

'I don't remember; I think I'd remember a thing like that.'

'Yesterday.'

'Alright! Alright, you bastard, you win. I just need to finish this email.'

Seb grinned, easing out another knot in his partner's shoulders with the all the precision he usually saved for a tricky shot.

' _Jesus fucking Christ, Sebastian!_ '

A coarse yell tumbled it's way out of Jim's lips, as he flung his hand up to stop Seb's own.

'I hate you! And one day I will have you skinned, or quartered, and then I'll find somebody else to-'

'I know, boss. I know.'

**Author's Note:**

> I've said that I'm going to do 2 chapters because I want to write the lap thing, but I also have exams and school and I also have a few lines of a johnlock version of this saved, so god knows when that'll happen.


End file.
